The Ring
by SenpaiBuckwheat
Summary: Gren remembers many things. Post-Dragon Prince. Gremaya.


**A/N: Sorry in advance**

* * *

Gren palms the ring, rolling it in between his fingers. Maybe he's too traditional, Amaya never was one for jewelry. It's getting hot in his hand, a little sweaty, the metal leaving a smell he can't wash off. It suits her though, the small gem set in the middle with hard and sharp edges. However, if he squints at the jewel, there is warmth inside it he can't describe. It represents her so much. It looks so good on her slender, strong finger. He remembers her wearing it despite her lack of love for material possessions and jewelry. For symbolic purposes, but also for love.

Gren's bed creaks as he lays back on it, holding up the ring to catch the sunlight. He smiles as he remembers his nervousness, her reaction.

* * *

They have been on the hill before, many years ago when they were younger. It holds the same memories for Gren, memories of anticipation and longing. He remembers holding her hand while walking up the hill, studying her face, watching the wind ruffle her short hair. They walk in content silence. He plans it out perfectly, arriving just as the sun sets over the kingdom of Katolis. The golden hour looks stunning on Amaya's skin. He imagines the ring on her finger, shimmering in the rich, heavy sunlight. He should hurry before darkness closes over the land.

Amaya surveys the scenery, as she always does when they walk into nature. Although surrounded by the village and the castle's walls, the hill overlooks them, giving a glimpse of the horizon.

Gren starts getting nervous, palms sweaty as he wipes them on his trousers. He feels the small lump in his pocket, only adding to his anxiousness. Amaya turns, smiling towards the burning sun as Gren prepares. He lowers himself to the ground, on one knee. She doesn't turn around.

Maybe he is too quick, maybe he should tap her shoulder, maybe he should—

_Gren_? She's looking at him quizzically.

His heart pounds in his chest. He fishes for the ring in his pocket. _Amaya_— he says, but with the fumbling of his hands, the ring drops to the grass and he loses sight of it.

He's panicking a little, things are not going perfectly. He had this all planned out but now the ring is gone, his knee is wet from the evening dew, the sun is setting too quick for him to ask the ever-important question and Amaya won't even be able to see the ring to know whether or not she likes it. Everything is going wrong. Gren wishes this is a terrible nightmare in which he can wake up in a few minutes to do the deed correctly.

Amaya is laughing at him, and he can't help but laugh along with her at his own worry. She's blushing though, that he can see in the darkening light; it calms his heart. They find it quickly, having it dropped directly in front of his knee and he takes his position again.

_Amaya_, he repeats, holding more firmly onto the ring so it doesn't fall again, _I love you and cherish you so dearly_. _You have been my best friend ever since I arrived at the castle and serving by your side has truly been an honor. _He's tearing up, stupidly. _I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you. Will you_—

Amaya steps closer, crouching down to his level. _It's dark and I can't see. One more time_?

It's hilariously inconvenient, so he laughs, but continues. _I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you. Will you_, he takes a deep breath, gathering courage, _marry me_?

She's hugging him so tightly he topples to the ground, but this time the wetness of the grass hardly bothers him. He feels her heart pounding against his chest and he feels the same, ecstatic and in disbelief. She draws back, saying _yes, yes, yes_, but Gren can already see the answer in her eyes.

_I love you so much, Gren_.

* * *

Gren smiles as he recalls. He remembers the ring is too big for her finger and he remembers her teasing him endlessly about it until he gets it resized. It fits her better then, and she stares fondly at it when she thinks he isn't looking.

_I don't like jewelry_, she says, but she's smiling.

Gren remembers holding her hand, feeling the ring against her skin, the warmth of her hand but the coolness of the metal. He sees her show it off to almost every person she interacts with. But she also can't help flashing it around as she speaks to others, the gem glinting in the light. It's unavoidable, yet comical. Everyone knows by the next day.

Soldiers start to treat her differently, but she doesn't tolerate it, treating them the same, if not harsher. Gren can't help but smile as he watches her order around the troops, jokingly threatening to make them do multiple push ups for teasing her about her engagement to her best friend and translator.

Gren gets his own fair share of teasing, he handles it poorly, turning into a blushing mess as Amaya laughs on, gently punching his shoulder.

He stands from his bed, looking in the mirror opposite the door. There are bags under his eyes. When was the last time he got a good night's sleep?

* * *

Amaya's skin is warm under his hands. Their legs are tangled together under the blankets and their breathing is heavy with sleep. Sunshine seeps in through the window. Amaya shifts in his arms, turning to face him. She's radiant as ever, dark eyes locking onto his. A slow smile creeps up her facial features, stirring warmth in Gren's heart. He loves this woman and she loves him.

He leans forward to kiss her gently, but she holds onto him, placing a hand on his shoulder and running her fingers through his hair. He is reminded of the previous night and can't help but blush. It's a little scandalous, when he thinks about it, if people were to know that they share a room before they are wed, he would never hear the end of it.

It's worth it for his fiancée's kisses on his mouth, the warmth emitting from her body onto his and the contentment he feels. He can see a long life with her.

_What are you thinking about_? She asks, lips red from his and from the night before. He's in awe of her beauty.

_You_, he says simply. _How much I love you and how I am excited for the future. Our future_.

These mornings with her are tranquil and comforting. If every morning is like this, Gren thinks he's a fool for not proposing to her sooner.

He leans forward and kisses her again.

* * *

Gren's face warms, but he doesn't smile. The memory is a happy one, yet he can't bring himself to ponder it long.

He holds the ring again. If he squints, he can make out a small stain on the inside. He doesn't want it cleaned. It's a reminder to him.

He wants to punish himself for being happy. There were times he should've noticed the way the kingdom was changing, how Amaya was changing.

It is over now, but the heaviness of it weighs on Gren's chest. He can't seem to breathe whenever he remembers it and he doesn't want to. He squints his eyes shut in pain. The pain isn't physical, but sometimes it feels as if it's suffocating him.

He stands over his wash basin, staring at his reflection in the water. The water isn't clean, he's been forgetting to change it, but it hardly matters to him. He splashes some onto his face before wiping it off with his ratty tunic. The fabric is soft and worn, but still manages to scratch his unshaved chin if he wipes hard enough.

* * *

Amaya is getting dressed and Gren remains in bed, watching her. Neither are smiling. Dread weighs on their hearts.

War is looming.

War is here.

Gren rolls out of the blankets, bare feet padding gently on the floor to stand behind his fiancée. He wraps his arms around her shoulders. _Do you have to go_? He's clingy and selfish, but he doesn't care.

Amaya sighs. _You know I do_.

Those four words rip him apart. He draws a shuddering breath, trying to distract himself from the truth. He places his lips on her unclothed shoulder, ignoring the stinging pain beneath his eyes. _I want to be selfish_, he says, _I want you to stay with me and not go_. He kisses the base of her neck gently.

_They need me, Gren_. She turns to face him.

_I need you, Amaya_.

She kisses him passionately, holding him close to her and tangling her fingers in his hair. Gren can't get enough of her and soon she has him backed against the wall, kissing his throat, jaw, lips.

Wetness slides down his cheeks and he realizes he's crying big heaving sobs. He's ashamed of his selfishness and wants to cover it, but Amaya takes his hands in hers before wiping his tears with her thumbs.

Through his blurry vision, he can see her crying too.

* * *

This is the hardest part. The part he hates remembering the most. He needs to grasp onto it in order to not forget although parts of him want to.

He stumbles to his bed, falling on top of it, the hard gem scratching his palm. The pain momentarily distracts him and he basks in it, relishing the clear mind before the memories come rushing back. Once they return, he can't control them, can't push them away.

* * *

The plain is hot with fire and destruction. Smoke plumes from the ground, clogging the air. Gren coughs into his fist.

It's over, finally.

He doesn't care who surrendered first, he's just grateful for the break, the full skin of water on his hip as he drenches his hair in it. With the remainder, he sips thirstily, savoring the way the cool water silkily slides down his throat.

He doesn't know where anyone is, he doesn't know where to go. They've moved to so many different locations in such a short amount of time he doesn't know which way is home.

Gren tries to avoid battles and confrontation, but he'll risk it to stand by the people he loves. Amaya. He loves Amaya. Where is she?

The weary troops are clearing the space, dragging dead bodies back to the infirmary for proper burial, for the slim chance they may still be alive. Wounded soldiers, Gren's comrades, limp back to where they know. Some write reports, others collapse to the ground in relief.

When Gren first came to train, he was excited for battle, to be a part of the action. After his first experience, his views changed. Even now, he is reminded why he hates war so much.

His thoughts turn back to his fiancée. He needs to find her.

He doesn't know where to start looking, but he stumbles toward the infirmary tent. Someone might know there.

"Amaya," is all he can say when he arrives. It's all the nurses need to know. A younger one doesn't meet his eyes. He asks again, and a more experienced nurse, whose name flees from his mind, looks directly at him. She says nothing, just motions with her chin.

There is a crowd around a bed.

That's not her. It can't be her. She must be elsewhere.

Gren can't hide his curiosity. He sees hands flying and shoves his way through the crowd. _Amaya_, he says, and it's her.

She's lying there, on a wobbly cot. Her face is pale, but her eyes are alert.

Praise the gods, she's alive, safe, with him.

The crowd disperses once he crouches in front of her. He doesn't see the momentary glances to each other they send. _Amaya_, he says again, clutching her hand. He's shaking, he realizes.

She smiles at him, but it's not the smile he knows. It's sad. Dread seeps into his blood. _Gren._ _I missed you_.

They've only been apart for days, but he feels the same. Life suddenly becomes hard when your fiancée isn't by your side in every waking moment. He's so entranced by her gaze that he doesn't notice the thick red staining the sheets on the cot. A blanket tries to poorly cover what anyone can see.

Any relief he felt has since disappears.

_It's just a little internal bleeding_, she says before he asks. _You know I love you, right_?

It's a bad question to ask after a statement like that. What is she implying? Gren is never good at finding the hidden meaning. Does he even want to know? _I know you do_.

Amaya sighs. _They don't know how long I have left. They can't heal me_. Amaya is good at being blunt and most of the time he's grateful for it. Today, he is not.

He wants to laugh. Surely this is a joke. An elaborate prank to make him wake up from this horrible nightmare of war and death. His chest tightens and he knows she is telling the truth.

He can't say anything. Gren squeezes her hand tighter in hopes that he can squeeze the internal bleeding right out of her.

He doesn't see Amaya cry often, but a few rebellious tears slip down her cheeks. Before she can move to wipe them away, he does for her. His own tears threaten to spill, but he tries to hold them back. For her.

_I'm not scared of dying, Gren_, she tells him. Maybe she is.

Amaya gets blurry in his vision. He refuses to cry; he needs to see her as much as possible before things change.

She slides the ring from off her finger, it's stained with blood. Hers or someone else's, he doesn't know. He doesn't ask. Gren can feel her trembling beneath his hands. He hates that she's scared, Amaya is never scared.

_I'm really cold_. She sounds like a small child, asking for help, but not knowing the right words. Gren wants nothing more than to hold her close, kiss away her problems, kiss away the inevitable future. She turns to face him now. _I want you to have this_. She's holding the ring, her ring, the one he gave her, in front of him.

He doesn't take it.

_Find someone, Gren. I'll be okay. Move on, love someone else. Take it_. He can't deny her, he pockets the ring. _Don't worry about me. Find someone to love as much as you loved me. Don't—_ Her eyes grow wide and panicky.

_Don't what? _Gren leans forward. _I want to grow old with you! Not with anyone else!_

_I love you_, she says. She draws a few labored breaths. _I love you, I love you, I—_

Gren's ears are ringing and he can't hear himself screaming her name. Maybe if he screams loud and long enough she'll wake back up. Maybe she can hear him and come back to him. He hardly feels a nurse touch his arm, hardly feels a group of soldiers tear him away. No. No! There's still light in her eyes, he can see it! Can't they see?

He breaks free from them, ripping off the blanket the quickly covered her with. Blood trickles from her mouth, eyes unresponsive. There's no love in her eyes, no hope for their future.

Shock paralyzes his body. He lets the soldiers take him away, let's her be covered again. They were supposed to get married. Supposed to have children. Supposed to live long and happy lives that were uninterrupted. This wasn't supposed to happen, wasn't a part of his plan.

Emptiness fills him.

* * *

It's the last memory he has of her. He can't lose it. Reliving it tears him to shreds, but he can't allow himself to forget.

He fingers the ring again. It's not big enough to fully fit on any of his digits. He can't bring himself to clean the inside of it, the small splotches of blood. It's the last part of her he has.

Gren realizes he should've had a portrait done. Is it too late? How does he describe her? Did she or did she not have dimples while she smiled? He racks his brain. Did her hair go to the nape of her neck or to her shoulders? How _exactly_ did her body feel under his hands? Why can't he remember?

He needs to sit down. The room is spinning under his feet, he can't breathe. The ring clatters to the wooden floor but he can't hear it.

He remembers, but he forgets.

* * *

**A/N: Don't ask me how many times I cried writing this **


End file.
